


Give Me My Sin Again

by emmagrant01



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blow Job, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Other, Seven Deadly Sins, ethereal sex I guess?, everyone has a penis, post-TV canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 15:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20530220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrant01/pseuds/emmagrant01
Summary: Aziraphale decides he wants to try out a sin. Crowley has news for him.





	Give Me My Sin Again

**Author's Note:**

> -I attempted to write this for the [666 word Fics Fics Fics](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/666FicsCollection/works) Sin challenge, but I am clearly incapable of writing a story in less than several thousand words. Alas, here is my failure.  
-Everything I know about sin I learned from Wikipedia.  
-Title is the obvious Shakespeare reference.  
-Thank you to Esterbrook for her comments on an earlier draft of this fic!

+++

“So I told him—” Aziraphale leaned forward. Wine sloshed ominously within his glass, but no drop dared spill over the rim. “I told him, I said —_hic_— it’s not for sale. And he said, so why’s it in a shop then? An’ I was, I…” He trailed off and frowned at his glass.

“An’ you said,” Crowley prompted after a long pause.

“I said,” Aziraphale continued, as if he hadn’t just gone silent for half a minute, “s’part of a special collection. And well, he did _not_ want to hear it. He was very unpleasant, an’ bellijj— belli— He was mean, even. Thought I might have to ask him to leave.” He waved a hand airily toward the door.

“Did you?”

“No. He stomped out, somethin’ ‘bout a nasty Yelp review. I had it all worked out in my head, though.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I was going to use some very strong language.”

Crowley chuckled. “I’d love to’ve seen that.”

Aziraphale snorted. “Wouldn’t been much to see.”

“I dunno. You can be wicked when you want to be.” He regretted the words the moment they left his lips. Alcohol only magnified Aziraphale’s tendency toward indignation when his goodness was called into question.

Aziraphale just frowned, though. “D’you really think so?”

Crowley opened his mouth to say something like _yeah, of course, where have you been?_, but he was just sober enough to think better of it. 

“I have been thinking about it, you know,” Aziraphale said, staring into his wine glass again. “They already think I’m something other than an angel now, after—” He gestured between them in a way that somehow encompassed everything that happened after the world didn’t end. “If I was going to do it, now would be the time.”

“Do what?”

Aziraphale’s gaze flicked up to meet his. There was something new there, a sort of spark Crowley hadn’t seen before. “Sin.” 

That word, said like that, coming from that mouth, did _things_ to Crowley. He shifted on the sofa cushions, cleared his throat.

“You’re saying you’ve never done it?”

“I’m an angel, Crowley. I’ve spent most of my existence being perfectly good in every possible way.”

Crowley snorted. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“Sorry?”

“Look around, Angel.” Crowley gestured around the bookshop. “You’ve got at least three of the big ones covered right here.”

Aziraphale gasped. “I do not have— What are you talking about?”

Crowley held up a finger. “Let’s start with greed, shall we? You’ve hoarded all these books, most of which should be in museums, and you won’t even let people with an academic interest near them.”

“They are precious, many of them are fragile, and I am far more suited to care for them than any human, not matter how many degrees they hold.”

“Pride,” Crowley continued, holding up a second finger. “You’ve just explained that one for me.” 

“Oh, honestly.” Aziraphale seemed much more sober now than he’d done a few minutes ago. “Fine, go on then. What’s the third one?”

“Sloth. My personal favorite, and to be frank, you’re nowhere near as good at it as I am. But you can’t tell me you haven’t used this bookshop to hide away and avoid your heavenly duties for centuries now.”

Aziraphale looked as if he dearly wanted to argue.

“And don’t get me started on gluttony.”

Aziraphale frowned and sank down in his seat. “I suppose I must admit to that one.” 

“As for wrath, well — comes with the territory for angels. Odd that it’s a sin, when you think about it. Not that you’ve smitten anyone with any real wrath for a few millennia now.”

“True, though very few of them weigh on my conscience. That’s rather telling, isn’t it?”

“Then there’s envy.” Crowley gave him a considering look. “Remember that archivist from—”

Aziraphale’s face went stony. “Yes, fine, I’ll give you that one.” 

“Which just leaves lust, really. So I suppose that if you’re looking for a sin you haven’t committed, that would be the way to go.”

Aziraphale stared blankly at him for a full second, then his cheeks went pink. He reached for the wine bottle, refilled his glass, and took a rather large sip. “Well, apparently I’ve already sinned enough to raise plenty of heavenly eyebrows.” 

Crowley stared at him for a moment. “Hang on. You’ve done that one too?”

Angels were, as a whole, shit at hiding their emotions, but Aziraphale was exceptionally terrible at it. Every time he’d attempted to lie to Crowley, even about something small and relatively insignificant, his face had practically glowed with guilt. At this moment, he was visibly warring with himself over whether or not to lie. It looked very uncomfortable.

He made a show of checking his pocket watch, then downed the rest of his glass of wine. “Goodness, it’s getting late, isn’t it?”

“Not for someone who doesn’t sleep.” Crowley leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and grinned. “You have done, haven’t you? You’ve lusted after someone.”

Aziraphale picked up both glasses and carried them to the shop’s small kitchen. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Yes you do.” Crowley could feel the embarrassment rolling off him, even from here. “Oh, Heaven — you’ve had a guilty wank over someone, haven’t you?”

“I’m very busy tomorrow, must get some rest.”

“You don’t—” Crowley sighed and pushed to his feet. “Come on, Angel. You’ve been on this planet for six thousand years. It was inevitable you’d lust after someone along the way.”

“Inevitable,” Aziraphale repeated. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know.” 

“Nothing wrong with the sin of lust? Yes, I think Aquinas wrote extensively on that very matter.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s more that lust is — can be, anyway — one of the fun ones.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” Aziraphale’s voice sounded oddly stiff.

“Well, yeah. I’m a demon. Part of the job, being familiar with various forms of sin. Humans really enjoy lust, you know. At least when it’s mutual.”

“Yes, I’m sure they—” The sound of glass breaking came from the kitchen, followed by a soft, “_Damn_!”

“Everything all right?”

“Yes, of course, just let me— There we are, good as new.” There was forced cheer in his voice.

The faucet ran again for a bit, then the shop went silent. Crowley reckoned the subject was closed. 

“I didn’t,” Aziraphale began a long moment later. “I mean, it wasn’t a human. Just for the record.”

Crowley turned toward the kitchen, surprised. Aziraphale stood by the sink, drying a wine glass with a tea towel. 

It must have been one of the angels. Gabriel was certainly good looking enough to catch anyone’s eye, though once he opened his mouth, the effect rapidly wore off. Michael was beauty and elegance personified, but her icy stare would ward off the most ardent of would-be lovers. It couldn’t have been a demon. Crowley shuddered at the thought.

“Well, then, who —or what— was it?” He very nearly kept the bitterness out of his tone.

Aziraphale huffed. “That’s hardly any of your business, is it?”

Wow, that stung. Crowley pressed his lips into a thin line. “Of course not. I’m just your best friend. Your only friend. Your platonic life partner. It’s not as if you can trust me or anything.”

“Platonic...” Aziraphale made a sound almost like a laugh, but there was absolutely no humor in it. “One would think, after all this time, you would have—” He went silent again. “I’m tired, Crowley. It was a lovely evening, and I do appreciate your company, but I’d like you to go now.”

“Angel—”

“_Please_.”

Crowley’d stepped wrong somewhere, but he wasn’t sure how or when or what to do about it. He plucked his sunglasses from the table and put them back on.

“Right.” An apology sprang to his tongue, unbidden, but he firmly swallowed it down. “Well. See you, then.” He closed the shop door behind him and walked down the pavement, still unsure what had just happened. 

It wasn’t the suggestion of being a sinner that had upset Aziraphale. He’d acknowledged it without much of a fuss. That had surprised Crowley, though perhaps it shouldn’t have done. Aziraphale had long walked the line between following the spirit of Heaven’s laws and abiding the letter of them, much as Crowley had done with the laws of Hell. They’d both rebelled in small ways over the years, just enough to assuage their consciences when their orders had been difficult to stomach. They’d done it for so long with no consequences that it had become second nature. 

And Crowley had been teasing, mostly. The things he’d listed as Aziraphale’s sins would hardly have counted for most mortal souls. It wasn’t really until they’d got to lust that Aziraphale’s mood had turned. 

Crowley let himself dwell on that one a bit. The idea that Aziraphale had ever felt that way about anyone was simultaneously exciting and upsetting. Exciting because it was new and more than a little unexpected. Angels didn’t go in for that sort of thing very often, as far as Crowley knew. When they did, it was more from a sense of duty than anything else. Angels generally didn’t eat, or drink, or give a rat’s arsehole about the problems of random human beings either, so it probably shouldn’t surprise Crowley that Aziraphale was different in that way too.

The _upsetting_ part, though — that one required some thought. He had no idea who it might have been who’d caught Aziraphale’s attention, but he was sure it was someone he didn’t like. Not that Crowley liked anyone, really. Other than Aziraphale, he’d never been close to another being. Had never confided in anyone else, or shared his deepest fears or wishes, or his most nefarious plans. The thought of Aziraphale wanting to be physically close to someone who wasn’t Crowley was… well. _Upsetting_. 

And Aziraphale had become upset when Crowley had asked who it was, when he’d implied it was someone… not Crowley.

He stopped in the middle of the pavement, causing several people to swerve to avoid walking right into him. It was _him_ the angel had lusted after. It had to be. It was the only thing that explained Aziraphale’s reaction: the embarrassment, the awkwardness, the offense he’d taken when Crowley’d made a joke of it. 

Satan bless it — he’d fucked this up before it even had a chance to start. 

Crowley had wanted Aziraphale for so long that it was background noise in his existence. It was always there, something he’d long ago learned to push to the back of his consciousness and not think about. So many moments flooded his memory now: Aziraphale laughing at something Crowley’d said, eyes slightly downcast, but never straying far, cheeks flushed, lips parted. The way he always smiled so warmly when Crowley appeared. The way he looked at him longingly when he thought Crowley wasn’t looking. The way his gaze roamed over Crowley’s form, sometimes lingering on not-his-face for so long Crowley wondered if he’d spilled something on himself. Aziraphale’s attention, his _desire_, had been there all along, but Crowley hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t wanted to let himself believe it, maybe. Either way, he was losing his chance right fucking now, unless he did something.

He turned around, uncertain for a moment exactly where he was. His feet had carried him deep into the heart of Soho, down narrow streets, past busy cafes and through crowds of theatre-goers. He pushed through them all now, heading back to the bookshop. 

He didn’t bother knocking, just touched the door and found himself on the other side of it.

“Angel?”

There wasn’t an answer, but Crowley walked to the back anyway, to where he knew he’d find Aziraphale sitting in his favorite squashy armchair with a book in his lap. 

Aziraphale seemed more resigned than annoyed at the sight of him. He looked at Crowley over the rim of his reading glasses and sighed heavily. “What is it now?”

Crowley stood awkwardly in front of him, then took his sunglasses off. No point in hiding behind them for this. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

“Sorry?”

“The one you— before, when you said you’d lusted for someone. That was— well, I hope it was, anyway.” He shrugged, tried to affect a casualness he didn’t feel at all. “Me.”

Aziraphale stared up at him for a long moment before looking away again. He closed the book and set it carefully aside, then took off his reading glasses, folded them slowly before setting them on top of the book. “What would you say if it was?”

“That I feel the same. Have done for longer than I can remember. Probably wanted you the first time I saw you, to be honest.”

Aziraphale’s gaze was focused on his own hands, his expression intense. “You did?”

“Yes.” Crowley took a step forward, but Aziraphale still didn’t look up at him. He took a deep breath, more out of habit when nervous than any sort of necessity. “I want it to be me, Angel. If you don’t feel the same, tell me right now, and we’ll never speak of it again. But if you do—”

“Crowley, my dear.” Aziraphale reached for his hands, enfolded them in his own. 

Crowley looked back at him, as vulnerable as he’d ever felt in his life. His stomach clenched and his chest ached, and he was starting to think he wouldn’t survive this. “If you’re going to say no, please get it over with.”

“I love you, you foolish demon.” Aziraphale shook his head and smiled, finally looking up at him. His cheeks had flushed a beautiful shade of pink, and his blue eyes were wide. “How you’ve not noticed for the last century and a half is beyond me.”

“Century and a half? Try two thousand years. It’s been so long that I don’t know what it’s like not to be in love with you anymore.” He winced. “Damn it. That’s not— Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Right.” Crowley pressed his lips together. This was really fucking awkward. “So. You’re busy, so I’ll just—”

“I’m not actually busy, you know.” Aziraphale’s smile widened. “I just said that, before.”

“So you lied?” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Not a big one as far as Hell is concerned, but still a bit naughty.”

“I can be more than a bit naughty.” 

“Can you?” Crowley liked where this was going, very much.

“I know it may seem sudden, but I’ve had a long time to think about it.” Aziraphale tugged at Crowley’s hands, pulling him closer.

Crowley sank to his knees at Aziraphale’s feet. “I’ve spent millennia wondering how your skin tastes.”

Aziraphale’s hand moved up to caress his cheek. “I thought about what it would feel like to have your wings around me, against my skin. Your mouth on mine, your fingers in—”

Crowley leaned in and kissed him before he’d worked out where exactly the fingers would go, but it didn’t matter. He was fairly certain he would have a chance to find out.

Aziraphale’s mouth opened easily under his, and his knees parted to let Crowley move in even closer. Aziraphale’s arms went around Crowley’s shoulders, enveloping him so completely Crowley felt like he was floating. He might actually be; he couldn’t feel the floor beneath his knees, could only sense the soft slide of Aziraphale’s lips against his, the warmth of his mouth, the way their souls were reaching for each other through every point of contact. It had been a long time since Crowley had kissed anyone, but he was certain it had never felt like this, like he was being consumed on every plane of existence. There was something more there too, though, rough-edged and heated, and that was new.

“I can feel you,” Crowley whispered against his lips.

“Sorry,” Aziraphale replied with a giggle. “I find a penis helps one’s trousers hang the right way, but it does seem to have a mind of its own where you’re concerned.”

Crowley’s lips twisted into a smirk. He looked down at the bulge that was now clear in Aziraphale’s trousers. “Not what I meant, though I am anxious to get to know that part of you better.” He looked up at Aziraphale’s beaming face again. “I meant the desire, the lust that’s all around you.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “It’s intoxicating.”

“Have you any idea what I’m feeling from you?” Aziraphale kissed his lips, then his cheek, his jaw, the stretch of skin beneath his ear. 

“Oh, you—” Crowley inhaled sharply and tilted his head back to give him better access. “Don’t say it. Ruins the mood.”

Aziraphale chuckled against his skin. “Incorrigible.”

“Is that what’s going to go for dirty talk around here?”

“No.” Aziraphale nuzzled his ear as his hands wandered lower. “I promise I can do much better than that.”

_Christ_. Whatever Crowley had been expecting, it wasn’t anything like this. He’d always imagined Aziraphale would be coy, shy, wouldn’t know how to proceed. Instead, he was digging his fingers into Crowley’s arse like he wanted to take a bite out of it.

“You aren’t… I mean, this is all well and good for me, but it’s not going to… oh, _fuck_, that’s… ah, you won’t get in trouble, will you?”

Aziraphale pulled back enough to look at him. “I don’t think so. She made us like this, you see. I don’t think it was an accident that we found each other, that everything happened the way it did.”

“You’re saying that you and I fucking was part of the Ineffable Plan?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Aziraphale’s expression was nowhere near innocent.

“If you play your cards right.” Crowley reached for the complex fastenings of Aziraphale’s trousers. “Or I could start by sucking your cock, if you like.”

The wave of desire that shivered through Aziraphale was enough to make Crowley rock-hard in his tight jeans. He moaned and worked at the fastenings faster. Aziraphale took pity on him and helped, and then his hard cock was right in front of Crowley’s face.

He whimpered at the sight of it., He wasn’t proud of that, but what can you do? He looked up at his favorite angel in all of existence, grinned, and licked from the base up the the tip. 

Aziraphale sucked in a hissing breath through his teeth and sunk fingers into Crowley’s hair. Crowley’d once seen a t-shirt in a shop window on Bourbon Street that read _Let go of my ears, I’m a professional_. He laughed at the time, but now there was nothing he wanted more than Aziraphale’s hands on him, guiding Crowley’s mouth to exactly where he needed it. 

He came off long enough to say, “Yeah, c’mon, fuck my mouth.” 

Aziraphale’s sudden rush of pent-up desire felt like a dam breaking. It washed over Crowley, filled him so completely that all he could do was ride it out, using his mouth and his tongue as best he could while Aziraphale thrust into him, hips rising off the chair, fingers clenched against his scalp. His own cock was aching in his jeans, and he managed to press a hand against it for a tiny bit of relief. 

It was a good thing breathing was optional, and also that he really liked the feeling of a cock pushing into his throat. He could sense Aziraphale’s care and concern around the edges of the fog of lust, and he reached out, tangled their fingers together to reassure him it was all good. 

And it was: the sounds Aziraphale made were exquisite, wordless gasps and moans, stuttered consonants that melted into long vowels, working their way under Crowley’s skin. The taste of him, somehow sweet against all reason, the vanilla and woodsy scent of him everywhere. The sheer amount of sensation was overwhelming. 

Aziraphale said words then, words that filtered into Crowley’s ears and didn’t register until Aziraphale pulled back, out of Crowley’s mouth until just the crown of his cock was pressed against Crowley’s swollen lips. 

“My dear,” Aziraphale panted, a question in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Crowley said, without the foggiest idea what he was agreeing to. It didn’t matter; he wanted everything. He wrapped his fingers around the base of Aziraphale’s cock and stroked. Aziraphale closed his eyes and arched up into his hand. He came on Crowley’s lips, over his chin, the crest of his desire like a physical wave against Crowley’s being. Crowley closed his eyes, trying to hold on a little longer, but it was all so much, too much. He groaned his own completion, the palm of his hand pressed against his cock, over a layer of fabric.

He sat back and licked his lips clean. “God damn, Angel.”

Aziraphale looked as if he’d just seen the face of God herself. 

“You all right?” Crowley asked after a long moment.

“That,” Aziraphale said, pointing a finger at him, then shaking his head. “You— _Fuck_.”

“I’ve reduced you to single-word utterances, have I? Well done, me.”

Aziraphale laughed, though it sounded rather raspy and fragile. “Hmmm. Yes.” He waved a hand at Crowley in a clear gesture of _come here_.

Crowley waved a hand over his face to clear away the rest of the mess there, then leaned in to kiss him.

“You sure that wasn’t a cast-out-of-Heaven sort of offense?” he asked a bit later. He was mostly, but not completely joking. 

“I’m sure,” Aziraphale said, fingers sliding through Crowley’s hair as if memorizing its texture. “It’s no sin to lust after someone you’re in love with, you know.”

“Especially when they love you in return?” Crowley’s cheeks heated a little, but he didn’t look away from Aziraphale’s gaze. 

“Yes, I think so.” He pulled one of Crowley’s hands to his mouth and kissed it. “I’ve made you wait long enough, my dear. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, well.” Crowley grinned at him. “That’s not really an issue at the moment.” At Aziraphale’s raised eyebrows, he added, “Ask me again in a bit.”

“I will.” He glanced down at the floor. “That looks terribly hard on the knees.”

“Worth it.” Crowley grimaced as he pushed to his feet. “I wouldn’t say no to a nice, soft bed, if you’ve got one.”

“That can be arranged.” Aziraphale stood and fastened his trousers again, then looked thoughtful. “Do you really think I’ve been such a bad angel all this time?”

Crowley shrugged. “No more than I’ve been a shit demon.”

“A little bit of sin isn’t so bad, I suppose. Not as long as one’s heart is in the right place.”

Crowley considered telling him that would disqualify nearly anything being considered a sin. He liked his angel a little on the wicked side, though. Best to let him keep thinking he was being naughty, probably.

Aziraphale held out his hand, his smile more mischievous than Crowley had ever seen it. “Come upstairs with me?”

Maybe Crowley was better at being good and kind and loving than he cared to admit, and that was one of the things Aziraphale liked about him. Maybe they were becoming more like each other all the time. Considering they were on their own side now, it was probably inevitable. 

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand, and followed.

+++

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! I can be found on Twitter @emmagrant_01 and occasionally on Tumblr and elsewhere @emmagrant01.


End file.
